In the Middle of the Night
by Guenelyn
Summary: A series of late-night visits between Steph and Ranger, documenting the development of their relationship. And tons of sugary goodness along the way. Babe, as always!
1. Sentinel

Disclaimer: The characters and the premise belong to the great and wonderful Janet Evanovich. I just like to play around with her genius. I am, of course, making no profit here.

Spoilers: None that I know of. If you've read the first few books and understand the characters, you should be safe. That said, I have read everything up to the FLF preview, so there's no telling what my subconscious might have stuck in here.

A/N: Okay folks, so this is NOT the new story that I have been promising. This actually started out as a one-shot that popped into my head and refused to go away until I wrote it. Well, another one made itself known last night, and I've decided to make a bit of a story. Each chapter will be one late-night visit between Steph and Ranger, and they'll all go together to form a story of a sort. I've got plans to include Absolution in here somewhere, as well. Babe, as always, Morelli isn't really mentioned at all yet. Enjoy!

* * *

He drove; his foot on the pedal, one hand resting on the wheel, his mind on the job he'd just completed. A drug dealer was bad enough. One that pushed to kids was worthy of a bullet, in his opinion. Add to that, a couple of bloodied, bruised, scared-out-of-their-minds teenaged prostitutes, and a long, drawn-out death was in order.

He let the road take him where it would; where it always took him on nights like tonight. Really, on this night in particular, there was no other place it _could_ take him. No other place he wanted to be. He could not have altered his course, nor his destination, if nuclear blasts had blocked the way.

He pulled into the lot and killed the engine, savoring the darkness and the silence for long moments. Most nights it would be enough just to sit out here and watch; eyes open, never wavering; senses alive and alert. A sentinel in the night. Some nights he just had to be here and see for himself that there were no crazies on the fire escape, no stalkers sauntering across the lot.

He guarded her because her come-and-fucking-get-me security system was not up to the job. He guarded her because even if she let him install state-of-the-art cameras and complex alarm systems and nigh-impenetrable locks, he'd still trust no one else to do the job.

But tonight he had to do more than guard. Tonight he could not trust what he believed to be a preternatural connection between them. An unexplainable knowledge that she was alive and well. It was a connection they shared. Generally, it allowed them awareness when the other was near, but it had, on occasion, alerted him when she was hurt or in danger. It was an intuition, maybe. It was the hair rising on the back of his neck. A tingle of unease. The feeling that something had been left unfinished.

Tonight, however, he ignored the low-grade hum that came over him nearly every time he thought of her throughout the day. The one that told him she was fine.

No light shone out like a beacon to alert watchers of his presence when he opened the car's door. He shut it again almost without sound, and then stood in the darkness, letting his eyes and ears search out anything that did not have license to be there. All was as it should have been.

His footsteps on the tarmac were silent. He was but darkness within the shadows; as he'd been trained to be. The door swooshed shut behind him as he stepped into the dimly lit lobby. One sweep with his eyes told him that he was alone. The door to the stairwell opened on creaky hinges and he winced at the sound before he realized that no one was around to hear it. And, on this mission at least, it would not have mattered if someone had been. He was allowed to be here. This was not some third-world country. He was not an invading foreign operative with orders to kill. Sometimes it was difficult to forget the training and just live here in the real world.

He took the stairs and the hallway just as quietly as he'd done everything else. Then the non-barrier that was her front door was before him and he paused for a moment to take out his lock picks and open it.

The apartment was dark and silent except for the _squeak, squeak, squeak_ of her hamster running on its tiny rodent-style treadmill. He smirked slightly as he walked by. Funny how her pet was so into fitness when she cried 'Uncle!' at the mere mention of a jog in the park.

Anticipation thrummed in his veins, making his heart beat hard and fast, as he closed the distance to her bedroom. He needed to see her, to know that she was here--alive, unharmed--not back there in that alley beaten and broken and sobbing.

He stepped through the bedroom doorway and paused to let his eyes adjust to the inky blackness. The tingle/hum sensation within him and all over his skin told him that she was here.

He took a few steps closer to the bed and peered down. It took him a minute to find her small body curled up among the quilts and blankets. He smiled as her pale face, haloed by wild, chestnut curls, came into focus. She was here. She was fine.

He'd known she would be. After the first glimpse, he'd known that girl wasn't her, but still he'd had to see for himself. Had to know for sure.

His breath came a little easier and his heart resumed its usual slow, steady pace.

He took off his weapon belt and folded himself into the chair in the corner.

All was well.

Several minutes flashed by in the neon orange of her bedside clock before she stirred. A fractured snore was followed by a groan, and then he heard her murmur, "Ranger?"

He contemplated not answering. He'd done it before. He could be gone without a sound before she mustered up the energy to open her eyes. She never needed to be any the wiser to his nighttime visits.

But her voice brought such peace and warmth on this dark night that instead he found himself saying just as quietly as she had, "Yeah, babe. I'm here."

She struggled to pull herself out from under the blankets, and then pushed up into a sitting position.

"Wha…what are you doing here?"

He smiled at her sleep-rumpled form, her obvious confusion.

"Nothing, babe. Go back to sleep."

"Bu…"

"Everything's fine, Steph. Sleep."

He saw her blink several times before her gaze sought him out in the darkness. She flicked on the bedside lamp and they both squinted against its glare for a moment.

"What are you doing here, Ranger?"

He watched her, knowing that she wouldn't give up now that she was awake, wondering what to tell her.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he said quietly. "Not anymore."

She rubbed her eyes and smoothed her hair back behind her ears before replying.

"What do you mean?"

"Everything's fine now," he whispered.

She made to get up, but he motioned for her to stay where she was and stood to move towards the bed.

"When weren't they fine?" She asked when he stood beside her.

He contemplated brushing her off and leaving before she could ask more questions, but he knew she hated his "man of mystery" routine, and there was really no reason to deny her. Besides, for some reason, he wanted to tell her.

"Earlier," he said.

She scooted over and patted the bed beside her.

He sat without a second thought.

"When?" She asked.

He couldn't take his eyes off of her. Her pale cheeks were flushed with sleep. Her crystalline blue eyes were lazy and soft. Her curls were rumpled and wild, speaking of hot sex and long nights. He wanted to throw all of his self-made excuses out the window, pull her into his arms, and never let her go again.

Maybe someday soon he'd be able to do all of that.

"We had a takedown earlier," he told her.

"Is everyone alright?"

She sounded so genuinely concerned. He loved that she felt such compassion towards his men. So many people saw them only as mercenaries, muscle for hire, brutes and bullies. But not Stephanie. She saw beneath the surface. It was one of the things that drew him to her.

"Everyone's fine," he told her. Then the image of that poor girl popped into his mind and he forced his attention back to the woman beside him. "Well, no, not everyone."

Her eyes widened and she sucked in a breath. "Who?"

"We were picking up a big-time drug dealer," he began slowly. "Dante Malto. He wasn't alone when we found him. There was this prostitute. At first…at first I thought it was you."

He paused to watch her reaction. She didn't so much as flinch. _That's my girl_, he thought.

"She had your hair," he explained, catching a curl between his fingers and tugging gently. "Anyway, it turns out she was just a kid. Eighteen or nineteen maybe. He'd hurt her, badly. Dios, she looked up at me with these huge blue eyes like she knew that I was there to save her. Just knew that I'd make it better."

He closed his eyes and saw it all again. All he'd been able to perceive in those eyes was Stephanie. Cold and hurt and alone. He'd left the guys to deal with everything. He'd had to get here.

"You _were_ there to save her, Ranger," Steph whispered. "You did make it better."

He shook his head. "I wish I could have."

He felt her eyes on him as they sat there in silence for several moments.

"Did you take her to the hospital?" She asked finally.

"I had Santos take her."

She reached over and tipped his chin up until their eyes met once more.

"Will you take me to meet her tomorrow?"

Really, he should have expected her reaction. Steph was always trying to save those around her; taking under her wing retired ho's, washed out stoners, and hard-edged mercenaries. He nodded.

"If she's still there. Girls like her have a habit of disappearing from hospitals. Doctors ask too many questions, provide too many hard truths. Not to mention the threat of the cops showing up."

She nodded in understanding. "We'll go first thing in the morning. The hospital has early visiting hours."

He knew he should stand, knew that it was time to leave. But he couldn't bring himself to move away from her.

"You're exhausted," he heard her whisper as her fingers brushed his jaw-line. "Why don't you just sleep here?"

He didn't have the energy or the will to argue. The adrenaline from earlier was ebbing. Now that he had convinced himself of her safety, it was all he could do to keep his eyes open. So instead, he pulled off his shirt and slipped under the covers with her. He flicked off the light once she was settled down beside him, and pulled her into his arms, holding her close and tucking his face into her soft curls.

Just as he was drifting off to sleep, he heard her whisper the one thing he hadn't known he needed to hear until it slipped past her lips.

"I'm fine, Ranger. How could I not be with you always protecting me?"

His arms tightened around her and he smiled gently as her breathing evened and he followed her into oblivion.

* * *

A/N: Thanks so much for reading, and don't forget to let me know what you thought!

Check out my profile to vote for the names of the new characters in my (as yet unposted) new Plum fic. Thanks to those who voted on the last one! The results of that one are also in my profile.


	2. Too Human

A/N: Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. You guys rock! As I said, these chapters ARE connected, although it is implied that there is a bit of a time gap between them. Everything that needs to be explained, should be, but PM me if you're confused! Oh, and I guess from here on out, this won't be too hard on Morelli, but it's definitely not a Cupcake.

* * *

She came awake in the way that she had become accustomed to; with the knowledge that she was no longer alone. The tingling at the base of her neck, however, informed her that her intruder was not of the psycho stalker variety. No, Ranger was here. Again.

It was not that she didn't want him here, not that she didn't want to see him. On the contrary, she wanted those things probably more than she should have, given the circumstances. But she also wanted him to seek her out in the _daylight_ hours; to acknowledge something more between them than a mere business association. To acknowledge the intimate bond she often felt during his nighttime visits.

But the fault was partly hers, she knew. The fact that she chose to cling to an unhealthy relationship with another man just because he was familiar and comfortable, did not bode well for any sort of connection she might form with Ranger.

She groaned as she rolled over and peered through the darkness towards the chair in the corner of the bedroom.

"Why are you here, Ranger?"

He didn't answer her, didn't move.

"C'mon, Ranger," she whined softly. "It's two a.m. What's so important that it couldn't wait for a less ungodly hour?"

He remained silent and still. Really, it was his normal M.O., but still, it was beginning to unnerve her.

"Ranger?" She asked softly. "Is everything alright?"

He stirred slightly across the room. His voice, when it reached her, was soft and coarse.

"It's fine, babe. Go back to sleep."

He pushed to his feet, perhaps with less grace and power than was usual, and turned towards the door.

"I was just leaving. Sleep well."

"Ranger, I…"

She flicked on the lamp. And let out a gasp.

"Ranger!"

She was out of the bed and across the room in a matter of seconds. Her fingers fluttered manically above the ragged tear in his otherwise perfect black shirt.

"Ranger, you're hurt."

His larger hands captured her own, and he held them clasped between them.

"I'm fine, babe. Really…"

"What happened?" She asked breathlessly, still trying to assess the damage to his person.

"Nothing, babe. Just a scratch."

"A scratch?" She said a bit too loudly. She could not see much of his injury beneath the shirt, but still… "Ranger, this is not…"

"Skip got a little excited, that's all. He got in a good swipe."

Her eyes narrowed and she stepped back from him, withdrawing her hands from his grasp.

"Take it off."

He stared at her.

She glared right back.

"I mean it, Ranger. Take off your shirt."

She could have sworn he rolled his eyes, but it was difficult to tell in the poor lighting. Without another word, he grasped the hem of his t-shirt and yanked it off over his head.

She got the same flutter of awareness she always did when she was exposed to his masculine power and perfection. Only this time, the flutter was mostly fear.

"Oh God," she whispered. "You need a hospital."

Most of his left shoulder and chest were covered with sticky, drying blood. In fact, it appeared to have leaked out of him in such copious amounts that the t-shirt had done little to absorb it.

"Oh God," she said again, a bit more frantically this time.

Hysteria was creeping up no matter how much she tried to hold it back. Yes, Batman was injured. Grievously so, it appeared. No, he was not invincible. He was, in fact, quite human. Too human. He looked a bit paler than she remembered him being. It occurred to her that he could be bleeding out right here in her bedroom.

"Y-you sit d-down," she ordered in a voice weak with panic. "I'll c-call an ambulance and…"

"Babe." He caught her shoulders in his big, warm hands, effectively stilling her. His eyes were dark and bright at the same time. A mixture of concern and what she recognized as amusement flickered deep within them.

"I'm fine," he intoned gently. "It's already stopped bleeding." A small smile touched the corners of his lips. "Most of this is just for show."

"Ranger, you…"

He silenced her with a finger to her lip. With his other hand, he took hers and tugged her across to the bathroom.

"You got a dark colored face cloth?" He asked. "I don't want to stain yours."

She nodded, unable to find any words.

When she didn't move, he smiled gently and reached around her to open the linen closet.

She watched him wet the black cloth with warm water. As he brought the thing to his chest, she felt she had to try to reason with him once more.

"Really, Ranger, you need a hospital. You probably need stitches and antibiotics and…"

He ignored her and continued swiping the blood from his chest and shoulder, rinsing the cloth every so often.

The water ran pink in the basin and she found herself slumping down onto the closed toilet lid as tingles overtook her arms and legs. She found that her eyes had slipped closed by the time he shut the water off. The wet washcloth thumped dully into the dirty clothes hamper.

"Babe, open your eyes."

She cracked one and peered up at him. Her other eye flew open.

"I'm fine," he said. "See?"

She stared in amazement as her fingers ran gently beneath a long, thin red line across his shoulder.

"Just a scratch," he repeated.

It was a little more than a scratch, she thought, but it was not so deep that it would require stitches.

"I thought…"

"I know," he said gently.

As she watched, a thin line of blood seeped out, but that was all. He'd simply disrupted the scabbing by washing the cut. He was not, as she'd feared, going to bleed to death.

"You got some gauze and tape?" He asked.

She looked up to find him smiling down at her.

"What are you laughing at?"

He shook his head slowly. "Nothing."

She let that go and stood to reach into the medicine cabinet and get the first aid supplies.

Five minutes later, his shoulder was bandaged and they walked out into her bedroom. Ranger stooped to pick up his shirt, and then disappeared into the hallway.

Surely he was not leaving without saying goodbye. Her heart thudded painfully.

Moments later, he returned sans shirt. "It was ruined," he said in explanation. "Threw it out."

She nodded. "There's another of yours in the bureau."

He shook his head. "Don't need it."

"Oh," she said softly. "You brought another one?"

"No."

His almost smile was back in place as he paced over to her bed and sat down to take off his boots.

"Come to bed, babe. You looked wiped out."

She stared at him in absolute confusion.

"Y-you're staying?"

He nodded. "That okay?"

All she could do was nod back.

He leaned back against the pillows and waited patiently as she climbed in beside him. Then he switched off the light and they were plunged into the intimacy of darkness. He wrapped an arm around her waist and hauled her close. She was suddenly very aware that she was clothed only in a pair of panties and one of his t-shirts.

They were silent for several moments, listening to each other breath, reveling in the closeness. Well, that's what she was doing, anyway.

"Your concern means the world to me, Stephanie," he finally whispered against her temple.

You_ mean the world to me_, she wished she could say. But she couldn't. He wouldn't understand; wouldn't want to hear such declarations from her. And then there was Morelli. She forced the thoughts from her mind and allowed his warmth and his scent and the safety she felt in his arms to lull her to sleep.

* * *

A/N: Thanks so much for reading, and don't forget to let me know what you thought! I'll post the next one as soon as it pops into my head.

Oh, and based on PM's from a few of you, I deleted some of the names from my poll and added a bunch of new ones. It's been changed so much, in fact, that I created a whole new poll, so even if you voted yesterday, you can "re-vote" today ;) Thanks so much!


	3. In Nightmares

A/N: Again, thanks for all of the fantastic reviews! You guys truly do keep me writing. Here's another one from Steph's POV. It feels a little weird to write her in the third person, but I started that way with Ranger's chapter, so I'm sticking with it. Again, definitely a babe, and not cupcake friendly—but then I'm sure you've realized that by now. Enjoy!

_

* * *

_

The greasy man in the red silk shirt grinned evilly down at her in the gloom of the bar's back room. His black eyes glinted with a cold calculation reserved for sociopaths and the criminally insane.

_"Hush now, little girl. It'll all be over soon."_

_She tried desperately to reach the panic button in her skirt pocket, which would have allowed them to track her, but her hands were bound behind her with lengths of packing tape. The mic stuck between her breasts was little help either; they could undoubtedly hear that she was in trouble, but there was no way for her to inform them of her whereabouts with her mouth taped shut as it was. They'd have to search the whole bar and its properties, damn it._

_"Just relax, little one. There's no need to get upset."_

_She ignored him in favor of working her hands against their binds and trying to formulate a way out of this._

_Footsteps in the hall alerted her to their discontinued privacy. She tried to force her voice around the tape, but all that emerged was a very muffled scream._

_It was enough._

_The footsteps halted, but just as a hard shoulder found the door and she heard the lock give way, her eyes flitted to the man in the red shirt. _

_Another muffled scream ripped its way from her throat._

_*"Execution time."_

_Edward Scrog smirked at the door as it crashed open. He raised his gun._

_She tried to call out a warning, but it was too late. Ranger stepped around the corner into her living room. The gun roared._

She shot up in bed, a scream lodged in her throat. She took a gulp of air, then another, but they did little to calm her racing heart. The t-shirt she'd worn to bed was pasted to her with cold sweat, and when she raised a hand to rub her eyes, she found them damp with tears. She glanced at the clock on her night stand. The orange neon letters told her that it was 2:36 a.m.

This was the second such nightmare to have woken her tonight and she knew that she would not be able to get back to sleep again. So instead, she rose from the bed, grabbed a clean pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, and headed for the shower.

The warm water helped to calm her racing heart, but still the images the dream had elicited remained in her mind, real and haunting.

She wasn't sure what had caused the scene from the botched distraction job earlier to morph into the one from last year; of Scrog in her living room and Ranger walking voluntarily into the path of a bullet. She saw him again, bleeding out on her living room carpet, and shudders overtook her until she collapsed to the shower floor in a trembling heap.

She still couldn't think of that day without remembering the certainty she'd felt that she was about to lose one of the men she loved. The only man, she realized now, that she'd ever been _in love_ with.

She tried to force the thoughts from her mind. Ranger had pulled through, as always. He was fine. Probably at home, asleep among his 1000 count sheets. She smiled slightly at the image, and hauled herself up off of the shower floor.

Once she was dried and dressed, she crawled back into bed and leaned against the headboard. She wouldn't sleep, she told herself. She'd just rest her eyes. If she didn't fall asleep, the horrible nightmares wouldn't return.

_The flash of the gun blinded her momentarily. When she was able to see again, she glanced back at Scrog. He was cackling like a demon, his eyes focused on something on the ground at his feet._

_With a gathering sense of dread, Stephanie followed his gaze._

_Ranger's lifeless eyes stared back at her._

_She screamed._

She was still screaming when her eyes flew open seconds later. She forced her mouth shut as she quickly surveyed her surroundings. Everything was fine, she told herself. It was just a dream.

But the dream had been all wrong. Julie hadn't been there, hadn't picked up the gun and shot Scrog. And Ranger had…he'd been…

_No_, she assured herself, _Ranger is fine. He's at home, and he's…_

Residual panic made her clumsy as she climbed out of bed and headed for the kitchen. Without stopping to think about the implications or the consequences, she grabbed her purse and keys, slid her feet into flip flops, and headed out the door.

She was out in her parking lot before she really thought about what she was doing. Was she really going to see Ranger? In the middle of the night? Because of some silly dream? Lord knew he'd paid her enough nighttime visits, but for some reason this felt different.

She got into Big Blue and sat there staring out into the darkness beyond the windshield.

What if he wasn't alone?

Just because she'd broken up with Morelli for good two weeks ago didn't mean that she suddenly had some claim on Batman. He had every right to be with whomever he chose. The thought was like a vice around her heart and a punch to the gut. For a moment, she couldn't breathe. She forced herself to inhale slowly. Exhale. Inhale.

She contemplated getting out of the vehicle and going back into her apartment, but the need to see him, to know that he was alive and well, outweighed the risks of finding another woman in his bed. And if she did, so what? So what if her heart was broken? Better he be alive and with another woman than cold and in the ground.

Suddenly she felt like she understood why she would come awake some nights to find him ensconced in the chair beside her bed, why he chose to see her with Morelli rather than put her in any danger by accepting her into his own life.

He had wanted to stay with her earlier, when they'd gotten back from the bar, but she'd told him to go home, that she would be fine. She wasn't fine. And so, this once, _she_ would go to _him_.

She turned the key in the ignition, put the car in drive, and pulled out of the lot. She knew she wasn't as sneaky as he was, but she had her ways of getting in and out of places undetected. If he was with another woman, she didn't want him to know of her own presence in his apartment if she could avoid it.

She fished her cell phone out of her purse and dialed the number he'd given her for the Rangeman control room.

"Rangeman. Cal speaking."

"Hi, Cal. It's Steph. Is Ranger on seven tonight?"

"Steph?" Cal asked quickly, more alert now. "Shit. Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, everything's fine. Is he upstairs?"

There was a short silence, as if Cal were checking a monitor or something. "His cars are all here, Bomber. So I'd assume so. You want me to call up and…"

"No," she said quickly, cutting him off. "I just wanted to let you know that I'm on my way over and to ask you to keep this quiet. Please, don't tell him I'm here."

"Uh."

"Really, Cal. Everything's fine."

He cleared his throat. She could picture him pulling out the collar of his tight black muscle tee and wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead. Cal wasn't liking her request. "Yeah, bomber, I guess I could do that. I mean, I don't think the boss will like it, but…"

"Don't worry about it, Cal. And thanks."

She hung up just as the Rangeman building came into view. She clicked the button on the key fob that would open the garage door, and then descended into the underground lot. She parked in an empty slot at the end of the first row, grabbed her purse, and headed for the elevator. The elevator was open and waiting for her. She gave the camera a finger wave before stepping inside.

The doors swished closed and she pressed the button on her fob that allowed her access to the seventh floor. When the doors opened on seven, she headed straight for his apartment door and inserted the key in the lock. The door opened silently and she shut and locked it behind her before glancing around.

Everything was as she remembered it; clean, masculine lines, hardwood floors that gleamed even in the darkness, soft, plush carpets. There was no extra set of keys in the silver tray on the sideboard. Only one cell phone was plugged into the wall jack. No feminine shoes littered the hallways. There was not a handbag in sight.

She took off her own shoes, set down her purse, and tiptoed silently down the hall to the bedroom. It was darker inside and it took her a moment to be able to make out the unmistakable form under the sheets.

It was definitely not a female form. She would know the shape of Ranger's body anywhere.

The absence of a woman in the bed and the darkness and silence pervading the rest of the apartment assured her that they were alone.

She glided quietly closer to the bed. His broad chest rose and fell in a gentle rhythm beneath the black Egyptian cotton. His breathing was deep and even. The black sweep of his long lashes against his creamy chocolate skin made him appear so innocent in the dim light, even while the hard lines of his jaw and cheekbones belied that innocence.

She knew without a doubt that he was naked under the sheet.

Here he was, safe and alive. He was sleeping peacefully. She knew that she should leave now, but she could not make herself move. She knew that if she went home, she'd only stay awake the rest of the night trying to avoid the nightmares.

And if she stayed? He was fast asleep, what harm could it do? Perhaps his presence would be a nightmare deterrent itself. He kept all the other monsters at bay, why not the ones in her dreams?

She found herself stepping out of her sweatpants and pulling the sheets back far enough to get in beside him. She wouldn't allow herself to question it any further. This was where she wanted—no, needed to be tonight.

She settled down, careful not to jar him, and buried her head in the Bulgari scented pillow.

"I wondered how long you would fight with yourself."

His voice startled her into looking up. His dark eyes were open and piercing her with their intensity. She wondered how long he'd been awake and aware of her presence.

"Since you walked through the front door," he said quietly.

She stared into his eyes, obsidian in the darkness. There were questions and concerns drifting in their depths, barely concealing the heat and raw power she often saw there these days. She shivered.

"I…I had to see you," she whispered.

He remained silent and watchful.

"Nightmares?" He finally asked.

Slowly, she nodded.

He reached over and she found herself tucked into the shape of his body, one of his warm hands on her hip, the other caressing her cheek gently.

"We'll talk about it in the morning," he murmured.

"Okay," she said, her eyes already drifting closed. "G'night."

"Sweet dreams, querida," she thought she heard him whisper just as she descended into sleep.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading, and don't forget to let me know what you thought!

*Twelve Sharp

Querida- beloved


	4. Savior

A/N: So here's another chapter, because I have to keep busy until I can finally get my hands on FLF. Stupid Amazon pre-order! Yeah, I got a great price, but come on, where's my book already? Oh, well, I guess you guys get to benefit from my misfortune. Thanks again for all of the wonderful reviews on the last chapter! This one goes out to merryXgirl—thanks so much for the idea, babe! Enjoy!

* * *

The ride from the airport to her apartment seemed interminable in the wet, dreary night. He'd had Tank leave a car for him just so that he could drive straight to her place and not have to worry about finding a ride if and/or when he decided to leave. He'd wanted to take her with him to Boston, but he'd known she'd be bored while he was in meetings and conferences all day. And so, he'd hurried his business, having no desire to stay in Massachusetts any longer than necessary.

He finally pulled into her lot at quarter past one, and was surprised to see the lights still burning brightly from her window.

His call to Tank earlier in the day had informed him that she'd encountered a violent skip today, and he hoped that she wasn't being kept awake by bad dreams. He hated the idea of the real life monsters haunting her even in her sleeping hours. Nightmares were filled with creatures he couldn't fight for her; the ogres and boogiemen that the subconscious dredged up when the rest of the mind shut down. It killed him that he was helpless to vanquish them for her.

He thought back to the night about a week ago when she had sought him out, come to _him_, in the dark hours of early morning because the nightmares had been too much. He recalled the following morning when she had explained them to him, and the feeling of shock and intense satisfaction when he had learned that he played such a large, such an integral part in her dreams. There must be something there between them if such dreams could pull her from her bed in the middle of the night in search of him. In search of his comfort. He would comfort her now if that was what she needed.

His hair and his jacket were damp by the time he'd reached the building, and he paused a moment in the lobby to slick his hair back from his face. He took the stairs quickly, impatient to feel her in his arms. He'd stroke her hair and kiss her forehead and assure her that her dream monsters could never touch her as long as he was around.

Pausing at her door, he placed an ear to the panel and listened intently.

"Stupid…what I wouldn't give…plumber…"

There was a loud clank from inside the apartment, a grumbled curse, and then all was silent.

He picked the locks and slipped into the entryway. She glanced up as he entered the kitchen, apparently not surprised much by his presence. She was getting better at sensing him, he thought with a hint of pride.

"I thought you were going to be in Boston for _two_ days," she said, not sounding either happy or unhappy to see him.

He shrugged before taking off his jacket and hanging it on the back of a chair; using the time to try to gauge her mood. "Finished in one."

"Oh," she said, and went back to her task.

Ranger surveyed the kitchen. The faucet was in pieces on the counter. A large wrench was lying in the bottom of the sink, a slow trickling of water dripping steadily onto it. Stephanie was wearing one of his black t-shirts, a tiny pair of green plaid shorts just peeking out from beneath the hem. Her hair was in a sloppy ponytail and the front of her shirt was wet. She was spreading peanut butter on a saltine cracker.

"Babe?" He asked cautiously.

"As long as you're here," she told him without turning around, "you might as well make yourself useful." She motioned distractedly towards the dismantled sink.

He stared dubiously at the back of her head.

"Babe, it's after one in the morning."

She spun around, one hand planted firmly on her hip, the other still wielding the sticky knife. "So?"

"Can't it wait?"

Her eyes flashed dangerously. "No, Ranger, it can't wait. I've been listening to this thing drip for the past four hours, and when I tried to fix it," she said with a wave of the peanut butter knife, "_this_ happened, and now it's worse, and I had a really bad day, and all I want is some sleep. Not that I could get any anyway, but…"

She sounded way too close to tears for his liking, so he raised a hand to stop her tirade. "Shhh. Calm down, babe. I got it."

He stepped around her, grabbed the wrench out of the sink, and went to work.

Twenty minutes later, his eyes were crossing from the effort of trying to concentrate around his fatigue, but the sink was fixed, and that was all that mattered. He'd conquered another demon for his woman; he could rest a happy man.

He turned around to find Stephanie sitting on the island counter licking her fingers. As he watched, she screwed the lid back on the peanut butter and twisted the top of the cracker packet closed.

"All done," he announced, moving to stand close in front of her.

"You fixed it?" she asked, as if she were holding her breath for his answer.

"Of course," he told her, stepping forward into the space between her legs and fitting his hands to her hips.

She peeked over his shoulder at the silent, non-dripping faucet and a little smile graced her lips.

"Thank you," she whispered. "Really."

He lifted her down from the counter and pinned her against it with his body.

"Why don't you show me how grateful you are, and then you can get some sleep."

He lowered his head to hers and brushed their lips together. A small moan emitted from the back of her throat and he had to tamp down the urge to grin madly.

"Mmmm," he murmured against her lips.

"I…I wouldn't be able to sleep anyway, it hurts too much," she said just before he captured her lips once more.

She was warm and so soft and she tasted like the peanut butter she'd just finished licking from her fingers. He groaned as his lips slid to her pale throat and his hands traveled up the length of her back.

"What hurts too much?" he asked distractedly.

She sucked in a sharp breath and flinched away from his hands just as they clasped her shoulders. "That," she said through clenched teeth.

He removed his hands as if they'd been burned and spun her around to face the counter.

"Ranger, really, I'm fine."

He ignored her protests and began to peel her shirt gently upwards.

"Ranger, what're you doing?"

He stopped when he reached her shoulders and saw the raw, red, angry skin there. He had to grit his teeth to keep from growling in outrage. No one marred her beautiful skin and got away with it.

"Who?" he asked quietly.

She tried to pull her shirt back down, but he was having none of it. Instead, he pulled the thing swiftly over her head and tossed it across the room.

"Ranger?" she gasped, arms flying instinctively to cover herself.

"Who?" he asked again.

She tried to turn to face him, but he held her in place by her hips while he surveyed her wound with a keen eye.

"Road burn," he said.

"Yes, but…"

"Who, Stephanie?"

She sighed and stopped trying to fight him.

"A skip," she said.

"Bennings?" he asked. That was the one Tank had told him had given her trouble earlier.

She nodded. "Yes."

"You get him?" he asked, half hoping she'd say no and he's get to hunt the guy down.

"Yes," she answered.

"Mmm. Probably for the best," he said.

She peeked back at him over her shoulder. "Why?"

He didn't tell her that it was because he didn't have the time or the energy right now to get rid of a body.

She was sufficiently distracted when he leaned forward and placed his lips at the base of her neck. "Proud of you, babe," he said against her skin. He felt her shiver. "Cold, babe?" he asked around a smile of pure male satisfaction.

She shook her head.

His hands ran lightly up her sides until he was stroking the skin just below her injury with his right thumb.

"Did you clean this?" he asked quietly.

She didn't answer for a moment. Then, "I…I took a shower."

He nodded though she couldn't see him. "That should have gotten all the loose dirt and rocks out."

"It still hurts," she whimpered when his thumb accidentally brushed the torn skin on her shoulder blade.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. Then he put his hands back on her hips and nudged her away from the counter and towards the bedroom. "C'mon."

She hesitated only slightly before obeying. She kept her breasts covered with her arms until they'd reached the bedroom and he'd instructed her to lie down on the bed on her belly. Her eyes narrowed slightly, but she did as he'd asked.

"What are you doing?" she asked a bit cautiously.

"I'm going to make you feel better," he said simply before heading into the bathroom.

He raided her medicine and linen closets for the supplies he needed and then returned to find her in exactly the same position he'd left her in. The curve of her bare back was smooth and delicate and so damn sexy. He imagined running his hands down her spine to her pert little bottom, lifting her hips from the bed and…

His fantasy was cut short when she whimpered his name. And not in passion.

"I'm here, querida."

"It hurts more now that I have nothing else to think about."

Oh, he'd give her something else to think about. But right now his babe was in pain and he was going to do everything in his power to fix that.

"Take these, babe," he said, holding out a couple of Advil and a glass of water. She sat up far enough to gulp them down before putting her head back on the pillow.

He set the rest of his first aid supplies on the bedside table and sat down next to her hip.

"This shouldn't hurt, babe, but since it is a pretty bad wound, it might sting for a moment."

He opened the peroxide and poured it gently over her injury, careful to catch the excess with a towel before it touched the bed. She flinched on first contact, and then settled down.

"Okay, babe?"

"It stings a little," she said. "And it's cold."

"I know, babe. I'm almost done. I just want to make sure all the bad stuff is out before I bandage it."

He doused it with peroxide one last time, and then he grabbed the soft washcloth he'd wet with cool water and placed it gently over her shoulder.

"Ahhh," she sighed, relaxing into the mattress.

"Feel good, babe?" he asked with a quiet chuckle.

He let his free hand drift lightly over her back, eliciting another sigh and more melting from his babe.

"Mmm, thanks, Ranger."

"Not done yet," he told her.

He removed the washcloth and, on impulse, bent his head to blow a gentle breath over her damp skin. She shivered and let out a gasp of air. His hands continued to trace light patterns over her back.

"Ranger," she moaned.

He placed a kiss at the small of her back and then withdrew.

The ointment he smoothed on gently, barely touching her abused skin, and then he covered it with a large square of gauze. He taped the bandage down with utmost care and sat back to survey his work.

"All done, babe," he told her. "How does it feel?"

"Mmmm," was her mumbled reply.

He smiled to himself and stood carefully from the bed.

"Don't leave," she murmured into the pillow.

"I'm not, querida. I'll be right back."

After shutting off the lights in the rest of the apartment, returning the first aid stuff to the bathroom, and answering nature's call, he returned to the bedroom. He noticed the dress she'd worn when he'd taken her to dinner earlier in the week hanging on the closet door. She had looked so stunning in it that he had had a difficult time simply kissing her goodnight and leaving that evening. She'd broken up with the cop, and he'd decided he'd better make his move before it was too late once again. But he'd also decided to take things slowly for the time being. There were aspects of his life that needed resolving before he could commit himself fully to her. Before she could be safe as anything more than his friend and coworker.

He forced his thoughts back to the present, and his eyes landed on the bed. Stephanie was already fast asleep, snoring softly. The smile that crossed his face then was one of contentment.

He'd saved her twice tonight; once from the dripping sink-monster, and then from the pain of the road burn some idiot skip had caused her. Now, he'd stay with her through the night, because with Stephanie Plum, who knew when she might need saving again?

And he'd keep on saving her until he breathed his last breath, because she was his babe, and he protected what belonged to him.

He climbed into bed on the side away from her hurt shoulder and wrapped an arm around her slim waist. Yes, Stephanie Plum was his, and he had plans to keep her that way.

* * *

A/N: Thanks again for reading, and don't forget to let me know what you thought! Oh, and don't forget to go check out the poll in my profile!


	5. Girl's Night Out

A/N: Huge thanks to all of those who have been reading and reviewing. I couldn't ask for better fans. Here's another one from Ranger's POV. It's a little different, but I had a lot of fun with it. I'm not normally a fan of song fics, and this isn't _really_ one, but I did insert a few songs here and there because they fit so well. And it did make sense to include some music considering where most of this one takes place. Please, enjoy!

* * *

He glanced over at the bedside clock as his phone buzzed once more across the surface of the nightstand. It was two o'clock in the morning, he'd just gone to bed an hour ago, and someone was calling him.

"Yo," he growled into the phone without bothering to check the caller ID. Whoever it was had better be bleeding from every orifice or he was going to kill them.

"Batman, you better get over here and pick up yo Batgirl before she start dancin' on the bar."

He blinked a couple of times to clear his sleep-fogged mind before pulling the phone away from his face and examining the screen. Whoever this was, they were calling from Stephanie's cell phone.

He put the phone back to his ear and ventured, "Lula?"

"Hell, yes, it's me. You listenin' to me, Batman? It's two in the goddamn mornin' and Connie and me want to go home, but yo girl won't get her skinny white ass off the dance floor and I ain't about to leave her here alone."

He smiled to himself at Lula's description. "How drunk is she?"

"Half a pitcher of margaritas and two tequila slammers drunk."

Shit. His babe couldn't hold her liquor. A glass and a half of wine and she was out. Frankly, he was surprised she was still upright.

"Where are you?" he asked Lula.

"Screamer's on Fifth and South," Lula said, "And you better hurry, cuz that guy in the corner been eyein' her all night and he looks like he's about drunk enough to make his move."

That statement had him gritting his teeth and heading for the closet for something to throw on.

"I'll be there in fifteen. Just stay with her and make sure she doesn't drink any more…or do anything stupid." Like let that creep in the corner put his hands on her, damnit.

"You got it, Batman."

He hung up and finished dressing in a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt. By the time he'd made it to the garage, his blood pressure was up and he was picturing every possible sucky scenario he might walk into tonight. One thing was for certain, if any man had his hands or any other part of his body on Ranger's woman, that man would quickly find himself without said appendage. The thought brought a grim smile to his face as he climbed into the Turbo and flew out of the garage. Best to at least have a game plan, he reminded himself.

His cell rang again as he turned the corner just beyond the Rangeman building.

"Talk."

"You okay, man? Some kind of emergency?" Lester asked from the other end of the secure line.

He and Manny were on deck tonight. The two of them had been caught playing a particularly heated game of "fuck, date, or marry" during a stakeout. This normally would not have resulted in anything more than a slap on the wrist; however Stephanie had happened to be one of the subjects of their little fantasies. Needless to say, the two were stuck on the graveyard monitor shift until further notice.

No doubt the two were a little curious about his late night jaunt.

"Steph needs a ride," he told them by way of explanation.

"She okay?"

Ranger smiled at the obvious concern in Santos's voice. His men loved his girl. Just not too much, because they knew that they'd wake up in some outlying desert if he ever caught wind of it.

"Nothing some sleep and a couple of Advil won't cure," Ranger said and then snapped his phone shut on Lester's amused reply.

Connie was waiting outside when he pulled up in front of the club. He swung the Porsche into a spot at the curb, got out, and made his way to her.

"Thanks for coming, Ranger," she said when he'd reached her. "We've been trying to get her to leave for about two hours now, but she won't budge. Maybe you can talk some sense into her."

He followed Connie into the club, nodding to the bouncer on his way past. Most of the guys here knew him; his company had done a lot of work towards ridding this place of a certain species of vermin who specialized in violence and addictive substances.

Lula met them at the bar. "Oh, thank God, Batman. My head is pounding and my feet are killing me. I need me some Advil and a nice warm bed."

He surveyed the scene before him. The music was loud and thumping, just what you'd expect in a nightclub of this caliber. Lights strobed and flashed on grinding, writhing bodies. Even at this late/early hour, the place was crawling with people.

His eyes sought dark, curly hair and pale skin, but that described too many of the women out on the dance floor. He turned to Lula and Connie. "Where is she?"

They both pointed.

He turned, and there she was, arms up over her head, hair trickling down from the careful bun she'd had it in, hips swaying to the beat. She was surrounded by a crush of other dancers, and yet he could tell that she was not actually dancing _with_ any of them. She was in her own little world as she let the music take her.

She was sexy in tight jeans and a frothy red halter top. She turned towards him and he could see that her eyes were closed and she was smiling.

He felt his lips twitch in reaction.

"You ladies go on home," he said over his shoulder to Connie and Lula. "I'll take it from here."

"Well, damn skippy," he heard Lula say. "That lucky bitch Mary Lou left two hours ago. She prolly already asleep in her nice cozy bed. Damn, I'm getting too old for this shit."

He barely noticed the two women gather their things and leave. All of his attention was on Stephanie and her intoxicating dance.

He wasn't aware of having moved, but in the next moment he found himself a mere foot from her, his hand outstretched to touch her bare shoulder.

Her eyes flew open, and unerringly, as if she had expected to find him there, her gaze found his.

"Ranger," she breathed.

"Babe."

"I knew you'd come."

He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes slightly at her comment.

"Is that why you wouldn't leave?" He asked with a slight smirk. "You wanted to drag me out of bed in the middle of the night to come and get you?"

She shook her head, a small, mischievous smile making her eyes crinkle up at the corners.

"I just wanted a dance."

He regarded her with what he hoped was his blank face. "Oh yeah?"

"Mmmm," she said with an even wider grin. "Just one dance, Ranger."

He moved in closer, his hands finding her hips and gripping firmly. "Babe, you could have just asked me to go out dancing with you."

She nodded and then began swaying her hips once more. "But I didn't know that was what I wanted until I saw all these couples." She motioned at the people around them, in various dancing embraces ranging from the distant, first-date stance to those who were practically fucking on the dance floor. "Please, Ranger, just one dance."

He smiled and moved in closer, fitting his lower body to hers; somewhere in between the two extremes presented by the other dancers. God, she felt good. And so _right_.

"One dance, babe," he whispered in her ear. "Because you're drunk, and more than one dance might lead to something you may regret in the morning."

"But, I…"

He silenced her with a short kiss. When he pulled back, he saw that her eyes were soft and liquid beneath her lowered lids.

"We'll talk about it in the morning," he told her, "when you might remember more than a couple of words of the conversation."

She stared at him for a moment. "Better make it the afternoon," she said, and then she closed her eyes and laid her head on his shoulder.

He breathed in the scent of her, relished the feel of her pressed against him so intimately. It had been far too long since he'd really held her like this. Of course, there were the kisses and the embraces, but the intimacy of this moment seemed truly different from anything he had found with her outside of their one night together. Perhaps it had something to do with how close they had become lately. He'd been letting her into his life little by little, and now even the small things like a hug or a brief phone call in the middle of the day meant more to him than he could have imagined.

He slid his hands lower on her waist and pulled her more snugly against him.

The song changed, the new one slower, much more fitting for their intimate embrace. He heard a young woman nearby squeal to her friend.

"Ohhh, I love this song. It's by the Perishers."

The comment tuned him in to the music for a moment, and then he was listening intently as he swayed across the dance floor with his woman in his arms. The song hit closer to home than he ever could have imagined.

_I __talk to you as to a friend  
I hope that's what you've come to be  
It feels as though we've made amends  
Like we found a way eventually_

It was you who picked the pieces up  
When I was a broken soul  
And then glued me back together  
Returned to me what others stole

I don't wanna hurt you  
I don't wanna make you sway  
Like I know I've done before  
I will not do it anymore  
I've always been a dreamer  
I've had my head among the clouds  
Now that I'm coming down  
Won't you be my solid ground?

I look at you and see a friend  
I hope that's what you wanna be  
Are we back now where it all began?  
Have you finally forgiven me?

You gathered my dreams in  
When they all blew away  
And then tricked them back into me  
You saved me I was almost dead

I don't wanna hurt you  
I don't wanna make you sway  
Like I know I've done before  
I will not do it anymore  
I've always been a dreamer  
I've had my head among the clouds  
Now that I'm coming down  
Won't you be my solid ground?

I don't wanna hurt you  
Like I know I've done before  
I will not do it anymore...

I don't wanna hurt you  
I don't wanna make you sway  
Like I know I've done before  
I will not do it anymore  
I've always been a dreamer  
I've had my head among the clouds  
Now that I'm coming down  
Won't you be my solid ground?

God, the song was the epitome of his relationship with Stephanie. All he'd ever wanted to do was keep her safe, and yet he'd hurt her with such frequency that it made him physically ill to think about it. She'd become the light in his darkness and he'd treated her so callously; sending her back to the cop after their night together; reminding her again and again that he didn't do relationsips even while he pushed and pushed for more physical intimacy between them; making her believe that all he wanted from her was a quick fuck.

And the real kicker was that all he wanted when everything was said and done, was her. In any way that he could have her. A friend, a coworker, a lover, hell he'd even make her his wife if that was what she wanted.

He shook the thought from his mind. There were things left to take care of before he could ask her to be his in any capacity. He was not a free man and he would not submit her to a life of wondering whether or not he was going to come home to her. Someday.

The song changed once more, and Stephanie lifted her head long enough to murmur against his neck, "I love this one. It's always reminded me of you."

As he listened, he realized that her statement was more of a revelation than it may have seemed.

_Well I was moving at the speed of sound.  
Head-spinning, couldn't find my way around, and  
Didn't know that I was going down.  
Yeah, yeah.  
Where I've been, well it's all a blur.  
What I was looking for, I'm not sure.  
Too late and didn't see it coming.  
Yeah, yeah._

And then I crashed into you,  
And I went up in flames.  
Could've been the death of me,  
But then you breathed your breath in me.  
And I crashed into you,  
Like a runaway train.  
You will consume me,  
But I can't walk away.

Somehow, I couldn't stop myself.  
I just wanted to know how it felt.  
Too strong, I couldn't hold on.  
Yeah, yeah.  
Now I'm just tryin' to make some sense  
Out of how and why this happened.  
Where we're heading, there's just no knowing.  
Yeah, yeah.

And then I crashed into you,  
And I went up in flames.  
Could've been the death of me,  
But then you breathed your breath in me.  
And I crashed into you,  
Like a runaway train.  
You will consume me,  
But I can't walk away.

From your face, your eyes  
They're burned into me.  
You saved me, you gave me  
Just what I need.  
Oh, just what I need.

And then I crashed into you,  
And I went up in flames.  
Could've been the death of me,  
But then you breathed your breath in me.  
And I crashed into you,  
Like a runaway train.  
You will consume me,  
But I can't walk away.

And then I crashed into you,  
And then I crashed into you,  
And then I crashed into you,  
And then I crashed into you,  
Then I crashed into you,  
Like a runaway train.  
You will consume me,  
But I can't walk away.

God, Steph wasn't the only one who could relate to this song. Who would have thought that a complete stranger could take his thoughts and feelings regarding the woman in his arms and put them to music so perfectly? It was literally what went through his mind every time he thought about his reaction to Stephanie. She truly did consume him; mind, heart, and soul. And there was absolutely no way he could walk away now. It might be a danger to both of their lives for him to let her in, but it wasn't possible for him to turn back now.

"Babe, don't you think we should get going?" he asked, leaning down to peer into her eyes. "It's late and I've given you _two_ dances."

She tipped her head back and regarded him with a lazy smile.

"One more, Carlos. Please."

His name on her lips was the hook, line, and sinker that had him tightening his arms around her and nestling his face into her hair.

"One more, querida."

He figured the next song had to have been selected by fate, or else one of his men was tight with the DJ and was playing a trick on him. He surveyed the room quickly to make sure Lester and Ram weren't hiding out in one of the corners, before settling back into Steph's embrace and enjoying fate's cosmic joke.

_It's been a year filled with problems  
But now you're here, almost as if to solve them  
I can't live in a world without you now  
All my life I been searching for you  
How did I survive in this world before you?  
Cause I don't want to live another day without you now_

This is the best thing  
The best thing that could be happening  
And I think you would agree  
The best thing is that it's happening to you and me

All I want to have is all that you can give me  
And I'll give right back everything I have in me  
Cause nothing ever felt as right as this does right now  
I'll go back to before we met, trying to erase the past  
Try harder to forget  
Cause nothing will ever be as good as here and now

Cause when I looked into your eyes  
And you dared to stare right back  
You should have said nice to meet you, I'm your other half

This is the best thing  
The best thing that could be happening  
And I think you would agree  
The best thing is that it's happening to you and me

This is the best thing  
The best thing that could be happening  
And I think you would agree  
The best thing is that it's happening to you and me

The best thing is that it's happening to you and me

Always knew I'd find someone  
I never dreamt it'd be like this  
Cause you've surprised all that I've hoped for and ever wished  
And I'm trying so hard with all my heart and mind  
To make your life as good as you've made mine

This is the best thing  
The best thing that could be happening  
And I think you would agree  
The best thing is that it's happening to you and me

The best thing is that it's happening to you and me

This is the best thing  
The best thing that could be happening  
And I think you would agree  
The best thing is that it's happening to you and me

The song drifted to a close and the next one started, but Ranger forced himself to pull back and take a step away from his babe.

"Time to go," he told her.

Her smile was gentle, her eyes filled with unnamable emotions.

"Okay, Batman."

She stumbled a bit as they began to move through the crowd, so he tightened an arm around her waist and practically carried her to the door. As soon as they were on the sidewalk, he swung her up into his arms and placed a kiss on her forehead.

"Sleep, babe. I'll take you home."

She relaxed immediately into his embrace, her head falling gently against his chest, her eyes slipping closed on a soft sigh.

He placed her gently in the passenger's seat and buckled her in.

He was in his zone, his mind focused on nothing in particular and so he did not notice the route he was taking until he was half a mile from Rangeman. Huh. He'd told her that he'd take her home, and somehow he'd brought them here instead. He wondered if his subconscious was trying to tell him something. But then, it wasn't exactly a secret to him, or to anyone else, that he'd rather have her here with him than at her crack job of an apartment. Not to mention that the thought of her in his bed gave him such a feeling of contentment that he couldn't make himself turn around and take her to her own apartment.

He turned into the Rangeman garage without bothering to examine his reasoning too closely. He'd simply tell her that he hadn't wanted to leave her alone in her inebriated state. It was true enough as far as it went. He could also tell her that he'd only been thinking of her comfort and convenience. Where else would she have a trained medic and a mother-like building manager within shouting distance? Not at her place, that was for sure.

There was no need to mention the fact that he couldn't stomach being away from her very often or for long periods of time lately. No need to tell her that he wished she could really be his so he would have the right to track her movements and keep her close. Not that having no right had stopped him before.

The elevator opened just as he reached it with her in his arms. He nodded once towards the camera in the opposite corner of the garage.

The silent ride up to seven reminded him of just how exhausted he was, and by the time they'd entered his apartment, he was ready once more to drop into bed.

He placed his babe down gently after pulling the blankets down. He removed her clothes with quick efficiency and covered her panty-clad body with one of his own t-shirts. Before stripping himself and joining her in the bed, he flicked on a nightlight in the bathroom so that she'd be able to find it if she needed it in the early morning darkness.

His arms closed around her and a sigh escaped despite his best efforts of contain it. This was truly what heaven had to be like. A soft bed, cool sheets, and the woman he loved, safe in his arms.

"Ranger," he heard her whisper into the darkness.

"Yeah, babe."

"I love you," she murmured so softly that he almost didn't hear her.

His breath caught and an indescribable tightness took up residence in his chest. Her statement was not a surprise. In fact, he'd been pretty sure of her feelings for about a year now. Besides, she was drunk, he reminded himself. She probably had no idea of what she was saying. But still, it was the first time she had spoken the words and he found himself more affected than he'd expected to be.

He knew that he should probably just ignore the declaration. Most likely it meant nothing. Simply a combination of too much tequila and too many intimate dances. Probably she wouldn't even remember having uttered the words in the morning. Nevertheless, he found himself responding.

"You won't remember this tomorrow, and that's probably for the best right now, but I love you, too, Stephanie. And someday I will make you mine. For good."

She was already asleep, her soft snores emitting from beneath a spray of her dark curls.

He smiled to himself, smoothed her hair back, tugged her a bit closer, and surrendered himself to the world of dreams.

* * *

A/N: Again, thanks for reading, and don't forget to let me know what you thought. If you've got any ideas for more nighttime visits or encounters, please PM me and I'll be glad to take them into consideration. I've got the end of the fic all planned out, but I'd be happy to insert a few more chapters before that.

Also, the last poll regarding my new (and still unposted…sorry) fic is up in my profile. Please, feel free to check it out.

Songs:  
Sway by The Perishers  
Crash by Daughtry  
The Best Thing by Relient K

I know they're not exactly night club material, but they just fit the relationship so well…


	6. In the Wind

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

Spoilers: Through 15 to be safe

A/N: Finally, another chapter. I'll tell you, this writer's block has been killing me! I haven't written anything in like…forever. This chapter came fairly easily, though, so perhaps I'm getting over it. We can hope so, anyway. Ah well, enjoy!

* * *

"I'm leaving."

Two words. Two simple little words. Apart they meant nothing, but put them together and they were large enough, powerful enough to shatter even the sturdiest of hearts.

"Wha-what do you mean, you're laving?"

His eyes, focused resolutely on the television screen where Jeffrey Donovan and Gabrielle Anwar were flirting over the making for a high-grade bomb, had narrowed infinitesimally.

"In the morning. I don't have a choice. Orders came down last night."

She'd scrambled up from where she'd been lying across his chest and scooted back from him, across the couch to huddle against the arm rest. Her eyes had stretched wide as dinner plates, and her heart had thumped wildly in her chest. Leaving? Now?

"Why…why didn't you tell me sooner?" She'd asked once she'd gotten her breathing under control.

He'd shrugged, his eyes never leaving the TV.

Her hands had fisted in her lap and her voice had been louder then she'd intended as she demanded, "Look at me, damn it."

He'd turned and she hadn't been surprised—annoyed perhaps, but not surprised—to see his blank face back in full force. She'd enjoyed its absence these past few weeks, had seen more sides to him than she'd ever imagined might exist. And here he was, pushing her out again, leaving her sitting out in the cold staring in through empty windows.

"Ranger?"

She hadn't been sure of what she'd been asking, not sure of what she'd wanted the answer to be. All she'd know was that she'd needed him to speak, to reassure, to let her see that all of the emotions she'd witnessed in him lately had not all been a dream. He was leaving and he was shutting her out. Was she to assume this meant that the past few weeks had been but a distraction for him, a fun way to pass the time? Would he be the same old silent, deadly, man of mystery when he returned?

Her breath had caught in the back of her throat. Oh God…

"Are you coming back?" She'd managed to whisper. _Are you coming back to me? To this? To us?_ She'd really wanted to ask. She could only hope that he caught the underlying currents beneath her words. He was Batman, after all; master of ESP and reading between the lines.

His eyes had widened fractionally, before his blank façade seemed to crack and then melt away entirely. There had been confusion and concern and some other emotion she still couldn't categorize all there in his liquid brown gaze.

"Of course, Stephanie."

_Stephanie, not Babe. Good, that meant he was at least taking this as seriously as she was_.

"I got the call last night," he'd told her, scooting over so the he could take her fisted hands in his. He'd smoothed his thumbs over the backs of her hands until her fingers had relaxed beneath his. "I didn't tell you sooner because I didn't want to ruin this time between us. I didn't want to mar it with worries and what-ifs. I wanted this time between us to be…"

"You weren't going to tell me at all, were you?" She'd wondered aloud.

He'd sounded almost angry when he'd replied. "That might have been true a year, hell maybe even six months ago, but not now. I know I haven't set the greatest pattern with you, Babe. I know that there have been many times when I've left without so much as a good-bye. But that was before. That was when seeking you out to say goodbye meant possibly reminding myself that you weren't mine to come back to."

He'd paused then and lifted one hand to rub the bridge between his eyes. She'd opened her mouth to speak, to say what, she had no clue but…His finger on her lip had sucked the words right back up into her brain.

"I was afraid that if the last time I saw you before I left was with Morelli, that…That I might not see much of a reason to come back."

She'd gasped then, but he'd pressed his finger to her lips more firmly and continued speaking, almost as if she weren't there.

"As long as there was the chance that he would screw up and give me my chance with you, I had a reason to come home, a reason to keep fighting, to not sign on for a life contract with the feds. So I kept my last memory of us—in the alley-way, in your bedroom late at night when you didn't know I was there, me holding you after one of your cars blew up—and I carried it with me into the depths of hell and back."

"I…"

"I would never have left you, not now, without saying goodbye."

She'd been so stunned that all she'd been able to say was, "You were in my bedroom in the middle of the night?"

His thinking-about-smiling smile had ghosted over his countenance before he'd pulled her forward, sprawling her across his body and kissing her senseless.

"Many times, babe," he'd murmured against her neck.

"Ranger." It had been a gasp, a plea, and he'd responded as any mind-reading superhero should. He'd scooped her up into his arms and stood.

"Let me hold you tonight, babe. Let me have this time with you. Let me carry this night with me until I can come back to you."

She'd nodded against his sternum, unable to form words.

The last thing her mind had been able to process before impossible pleasure had surrounded and consumed her, was one word, said as a growl right before he'd pushed into her.

"Mine."

That had been six weeks ago.

She rolled over in bed and glared at the neon numbers telling her that she'd be getting no sleep again tonight. No matter that she was in his bed, safe in his building, where she'd been since the week after he'd left. No matter that his scent was all around her and his shirt was soft against her skin. She still hadn't slept a full night since that morning he'd slid from her bed, kissed her awake, and left her in a sniveling pile of self-misery.

She flopped back onto the bed and counted the hours since she'd crawled into bed at one o'clock. Three hours. Wow, it was almost a record. Three hours was about the average amount of time she remained unconscious each night these days. And even those hours were consumed with missing him. She dreamt almost every night about the time they'd spent together before he'd left. Of the midnight visits and the daytime flirtations. Of the dates and the dancing and the one disastrous family dinner with her parents. She dreamt of stupid simple things like how he'd fixed her sink at one in the morning, and how he'd grinned knowingly at the scenarios and voice overs on his new favorite show Burn Notice. It was almost as if… _"Are you a spy?" she'd finally asked him on one occasion. He'd turned to her, that mischievous glint in his dark eyes, and shrugged_.

She remembered with utmost clarity and breathless anticipation, the night they'd shared six weeks ago. It had been the only time they'd been together intimately since "the Dechooch Deal" as she'd labeled it in her mind. The afternoon after he'd gotten out of bed to come get her at the club, he'd explained that while he wanted her more than he'd ever wanted anyone, he also wanted to take things slowly with her, to get things right this time. And so they'd 'dated'; like an every-day, normal pair of adults who didn't attract wacko stalkers and blow up cars and kill bad guys. There had been kisses and caresses and very, very near calls, but she had not been able to make him give up on his plans to woo her. Until that night. It had been lovingly heated and scorchingly passionate, and just enough to leave her screaming for more. Which she had been doing for the past six weeks. In her mind anyway.

But it wasn't just the incredible lovemaking she wanted him back for. She wanted to see his dark gaze, his dangerous muscles (so good at protecting her), his soft smile, his silky hair. She wanted to hear him call her 'babe', to argue with him over whether she needed a Merry Man bodyguard, to meet his 'Ma' and his 'Papa'. She wanted to see him chase his nieces and nephews across a yard somewhere while she tried desperately to make his sisters like her. She wanted to watch him flinch and cover himself in that age-old way that men did, as her grandma reached for his delectable 'package'. She wanted to see his eyes glint with jealousy when Diesel popped in for a visit, and feel his lips on hers when she told him that he had _nothing_ to be jealous over. She wanted to watch his lips curve up and feel his arm tighten around her possessively as he finally showed Morelli who the winner was.

Because he _was_ the winner. He had won her so many times and in so many ways that she was surprised it had taken them both so long to realize it. He might never have said the words in the way she'd needed to hear them, but his actions should have proven to her that what he felt for her was far more than detached curiosity, or unbridled lust, or not-so-simple friendship. What he felt for her, she knew, closely rivaled what she had been feeling for him since even before the Scrog fiasco.

He'd told her in not-so-many words just before he'd left.

She was his reason for coming home. And if that didn't say it more perfectly than those three little conventional, completely cliché words, then she didn't know what did.

She just hoped she'd get the chance to say such remarkable, reality altering words to him someday soon.

She snuggled down into his thousand count sheets and prepared to wait. For however long it took her Batman to get home to her.

* * *

A/N: Thanks so much for reading! In case you all didn't notice, I'm currently obsessed with Burn Notice (although I've only seen the first season, so no spoilers please!). I kinda like the idea that Ranger is some sort of government spy a-la Michael Westen. It would explain so much, wouldn't it? And the two characters are really very much alike. Alright, I'll stop boring you with my silly ideas. Please, let me know what you thought!


	7. Home

Disclaimer: See ch. 1

Spoilers: Through Plum Spooky to be safe

A/N: So sorry for the long wait. Writer's block, life, the usual. Thanks so much to everyone who's read and/or reviewed the previous chapters. On a bit of a side note, I'd mentioned including Absolution in here somewhere. Upon looking back at it, I realized that too many changes would have to be made in order to make it fit in here, so it will remain a stand-alone one-shot. Check it out if you haven't already. And without further ado…I hope this chapter makes up for the lack of updating.

A/N2: A terrible error in consistency was brought to my attention, so here is the (hopefully) correct version of the chapter. My only excuse for the glaring mistake is that I finished this chapter at like 2 a.m. So thanks jb for pointing it out! I'm really surprised no one else noticed it, but you get an evening with Ranger for being so aware of your surroundings :)

* * *

Her bed was empty. He'd been so careful, so precise and quiet sneaking in here so as not to wake her. He'd planned to climb into bed with her and wait to see how long it took her to realize that she was not alone. Then, as she was coming awake, so soft and sweet and warm, he'd show her just how much he had missed her, starting at her lips and working his way slowly down. Obviously that would not be happening tonight. Because her bed was empty.

He flipped open his phone and speed-dialed her cell. It rang and rang until finally the voice mail picked up. He snapped his phone closed.

Two deep breaths later and one pace around her bedroom and he flipped his phone back open. Another speed-dial number was punched in before he raised the thing to his ear.

"R—Rangeman?" Tank asked around a yawn.

Ranger wasted no time on pleasantries. "Where is she?"

"When the hell did you get back? The general told me we wouldn't be seeing you for another couple of days."

"Where the hell is she, goddamn it?"

"Whoa, hoa, calm down there, boss. It's two in the morning, she's probably at home in bed," Tank said, yawning loudly once more. "As you should be."

And with that parting remark, Ranger was growling at no one. The goddamn man had hung up on him.

He dialed the number again, but it went straight to voice mail. Tank had turned his phone off.

Ranger rubbed two fingers into his burning eye sockets and told himself that throwing the phone against the wall would only accomplish breaking the phone, nothing more. So instead he pressed three on his speed-dial and waited for an answer.

"Hey man, when'd you get back?"

Ranger could barely hear the words over the thumping music and the gaggle of voices. "Where is she, Santos?" he growled.

"Hang on, man."

There were a few moments where all Ranger heard were the sounds of what was obviously one nightclub or another, before the sounds faded and Lester came back on the line.

"Sorry, cuz, pretty loud in there."

"Tell. Me. Where. She. Is. Now," he found himself gritting out. Damn it, his babe was missing and no one even seemed to care.

"Who? Steph? I imagine she's probably at home in bed, like most other people are at this hour." There was a smirk in his voice when he continued, "Which is exactly where I'm headed right now. Gotta go, cuz, Tina's getting restless."

And the piece of scum disconnected.

They were dead men walking, Ranger thought to himself. Both of them. And any other employee of Rangeman who was out there sleeping or clubbing or, fuck, even breathing while Stephanie was missing and they were doing nothing about it.

He was sending them all to Uzbekistan.

It just didn't make any sense. He'd given Tank, Lester, and Bobby strict orders to watch over Steph while he was gone, just like every other time. There's no way she could be missing and them not know about it. But then, here it was two a.m. and her bed was empty as could be, and Tank and Lester weren't even concerned.

He flipped open his phone and dialed Bobby. Maybe, just maybe, it was Bobby's night to watch her and the others didn't know anything was wrong yet.

"Hey, boss-man, you just get in?"

"Where is she, Bobby?"

There was a short pause before Bobby came back on the line sounding unsure and confused. "She's at home, man. I just checked on her."

"She's not here, B. I'm standing in her bedroom as we speak. Get the word out, code Babe."

"Naw, man. Not her place, she's…"

An alarm sounded in the background and Bobby let out an expletive.

"I gotta go, Rangeman. But she's fine, I promise."

And with that, the third employee this morning hung up on him. He was seriously losing his touch.

And what the hell had Bobby meant. _Not her place_… Whose place, then? Ranger could only think of two places she might stay over for a night. And seeing as there was nothing wrong with her apartment and Tank hadn't mentioned any trouble lately… She wouldn't have gone to her parents' without a good reason. That left… Ranger scrunched his eyes closed and rubbed his temples. He refused to believe that she was back with the cop.

He paced the room—a totally uncharacteristic action—until he couldn't stand it any longer, and then he forced himself out the door, down the stairs and to his car.

And before he could tell himself that it wasn't a good idea, that if she _was_ there that he didn't want to know it, he was parked two houses down and across the street from the cop's house.

His gut clenched painfully as realization hit him. There were two cars parked in the driveway, the cop's truck and a small hatchback that could easily be Steph's. The Dodge Neon she'd been driving when he'd left had not been in her parking lot. And though Tank had not mentioned any vehicle explosions, thefts, or other mishaps, such occurrences were so commonplace in Stephanie Plum's life that they often did not warrant mentioning.

A female figure passed by the lit window upstairs, the bedroom window, Morelli's bedroom. It was all Ranger needed to see.

Her betrayal burned like an acid poured down his throat. He knew that it shouldn't affect him so; he shouldn't let it. She'd gone back to the cop before—she always went back. But he'd thought it was different this time.

_He'd woken her with soft kisses on the nose and eyelids and cheeks. He knew that if it went any farther, he'd be late at the airfield and the general would not like that._

"_Mmm, morning," she'd murmured, her eyes barely open. "What time is it?"_

"_Early, babe. I just wanted to let you know that I'm leaving."_

_Her eyes had flown open and he'd seen fear and pain and desperation there before she'd quickly forced her emotions under control. _

"_Now?"_

_He'd forced a small smile and swept a curl from her forehead. "Yeah, babe. Now."_

_She'd sat up next to him and her eyes had seemed to survey him from head to foot, taking him in, memorizing him. He'd already done the same with her before he'd woken her. _

"_I'm going to miss you," she'd whispered._

_He'd pulled her to him then, tucking her in tightly to his chest, breathing in her scent so that he might carry it with him for the next however long through hell and back._

"_I'll be back as soon as I can," he'd told her quietly. "I'll come home to you."_

_He'd felt a shudder ripple through her and had to suppress his body from responding._

_She'd pulled back and peered up into his face, her eyes bright with unshed tears._

"_I'll be waiting."_

Her lie reverberated through his head even as he forced his eyes to the road and drove past the cop's house and out of the neighborhood. He was half a block from Rangeman's underground garage by the time his teeth had unclenched and he was able to take a deep breath. How could he have fallen for it? _"I'll be waiting."_ Huh. Yeah, right. How long had she waited for him before jumping back into the cop's bed? A week? Two weeks? A month?

He pressed the button to raise the garage door with more force than necessary and drove in before the gate was even halfway up. He whipped into a parking space and threw the car into park. Then he sat, fuming. How could he have let her get to him like this? How could he have fallen for the little white girl from the burg so damn hard that he couldn't even see what was right in front of him? That she would never leave the cop for good. That she would never be his completely. That all he'd ever have with her were stolen kisses and caresses. Stolen hours. Stolen because they weren't his to take.

He wasn't even aware of having left the car until he was in the elevator riding it to the seventh floor. He shook his head to clear it, hating that he'd let her make him like this. He'd let thoughts of her distract him, making him horribly unaware of his surroundings.

The elevator dinged quietly as it reached his floor and the doors slid open. He stepped out into the hallway, and then keyed himself into the apartment. It was dark and quiet, just like it always was when he returned from a trip. Empty. Just like his life without her in it.

He flung his bag on the floor in the entryway, kicking his boots off beside it. Normally he would have taken more care with his things, but he just couldn't make himself care at the moment. He shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it onto the coat rack by the door.

He made his way through the apartment without turning on a light. It wasn't like it had changed. What was there to see but the same blank walls and neutral furniture? It was a place to stay, he realized, but not a home. He didn't have one of those. There was no "batcave". No secret mansion with a hidden garage filled with high-tech gadgets and incontestable weapons. He'd never had any need for a place of his own. He guessed he never would. He'd been thinking lately that he should buy a place that he could bring her to. A place for the two of them to be alone and just relax. Obviously that wasn't an issue now.

God, he had to get her out of his mind. Perhaps he'd go away for awhile. Take more of a hands on role in the Miami office, spend some time with Julie. Yeah, that's what he'd do.

He went straight to the bedroom, deciding in his exhaustion and his self-pity to forgo a shower until morning. It was only a couple of hours away, after all. He didn't even bother to strip, which was, in and of itself, a true indication of his state-of-mind. The only time he ever slept in anything but his skin was when he shared a bed with Steph and was trying to be courteous. He forced the image of her lying next to him roughly from his mind.

He was surprised to find that his blankets and sheets were rumpled, but he didn't pay much attention to it. Perhaps one of the guys…or Steph…had made use of his apartment lately and Ella hadn't had a chance to change the sheets. He left it at that and slid into bed.

He nearly jumped out again with an unmanly yelp when the other side of the bed shifted and a soft moan emitted from an unseen mouth.

Then with one word, his world crashed back into focus, "Ranger?"

He had the bedside light flipped on and was leaning over to get a better look practically before she'd gotten the word out.

"Babe," he breathed, taking in her sleep-rumpled form. Her hair was in complete and total disarray. There was a crease on her cheek from where it had been pressed into the pillow. Her eyes were red and puffy from lack of sleep. She blinked them open slowly and a strange expression, one he couldn't exactly place, flitted across her features. She was beautiful, she was perfect, she was here.

"Babe?" He didn't know what he was asking her, knew only that he needed to hear her voice and know that he wasn't imagining this. Clearly she was having the same problem.

"Are you really here this time?"

He felt his brows draw down at the center. "What do you mean 'this time'?"

Her hands came up to rub at her eyes before she blinked up at him once more and answered, "I've had this dream before, and every time I wake up alone."

He stared down at her, hating the thought of her dreaming every night of his return only to awaken and find that he was still an ocean and a half away.

"How long?" he asked softly.

She seemed to think on it a moment. "How long have you been gone?"

"Six months, two weeks…"

"Three days and twenty one hours," she finished for him even though he could have told her, right down to the seconds. "I guess that's about how long I've been having the dream."

He wanted to tell her that he'd dreamt of her often while he'd been away as well, but found he couldn't speak. So he reached over and drew her into his arms, inhaling her scent as he had all those months ago. It hadn't changed, and he was glad to know that he'd recalled it so well all this time.

"I'm here, babe. I'm really here."

She snuggled into him, her arms tight around his neck, her breath warm against his jaw. "You always say that," she breathed.

He chuckled lightly and hugged her tighter. "Do I?"

"Mmm-hmm."

"And what else do I do?"

She pulled away slightly and peered up at him. Her eyes were a mix of mischief and uncertainty as she said, "You kiss me."

He felt a smile tug at his lips. "Like this?" He asked just before he lowered his head and took her lips with his. The kiss was slow and searching; the kiss of two people who had not had the opportunity to taste and know each other for far too long. She moaned into his mouth and he deepened the kiss until it was something else entirely; something hot and desperate and filled with all of the need he was currently feeling.

"What else do I do, babe?" He rasped when they finally pulled back for air.

"You touch me," she gasped as she lay back on the bed and he crawled up over her.

"Mmmm," he murmured, running his hands down her shoulders to the tips of her fingers, bringing them to his lips one by one before placing her hands on the pillow above her head. She left them there obediently as his hands moved to her sides and ran slowly down to her hips before roving back up to the undersides of her breasts.

"Like this?" He asked.

"Carlos," she gasped as his hands swept beneath her black, oversized t-shirt and pulled it up over her head, flinging it to the side of the bed.

"Yes, babe, it's me."

"You're really back," she said, shivering beneath him.

"I am, babe. And you're really here with me."

"Of course I am, Carlos. Where else would I be?"

He gazed deeply into her lust-darkened blue eyes. "Nowhere," he said as he lowered his head and took one nipple into his mouth.

Whoever that woman had been back at Morelli's house, it had clearly not been his babe.

Her back arched, giving him even greater access to the creamy mounds with their little cherry tips. God, he'd missed her. He'd missed touching her and holding her. He'd missed her soft, small hands on him. Even as he thought it, her fingers were in his hair, tugging and smoothing, gentle and restless at the same time.

"Carlos, please."

He lifted his mouth from her breasts long enough to peer down at her, writhing beneath him. "Please, what, babe?" He asked, leaning down to nip playfully at her chin, her neck. "What happens next in this dream of yours?'

"I," she gasped as his mouth found her nipple once more and he drew it in, "I don't know. I—I always wake up before the good part."

"Mmmm," he said against her skin, his lips tracking slowly downward across her stomach, to her navel, finally pausing at the waistband of her blue lace panties. "We'll have to remedy that, won't we?"

And then he was sliding the last offending piece of clothing from her perfect, gorgeous body, baring the promised land to his greedy eyes and his searching hands. He touched her there softly, reverently, groaning at the wetness he found awaiting him.

"Dios mio, babe."

Her hips lifted, desperately trying to make contact with his ghosting fingers, and he felt her hands on his shoulder, grasping the material of his shirt and tugging. Her attempts to disrobe him were unsuccessful and he found himself smiling over the little frustrated noises she made at the back of her throat.

"Patience, babe." And then he was there, right where he wanted to be, breathing in her essence, tasting the very heat of her. She was so sweet, so hot. He knew that if he let her have her way and remove his clothing, he'd lose it completely and this would be over far too quickly for his liking. So instead he brought her to the edge with his mouth and hands before pulling back—much to her protests—and starting over.

It wasn't until her hands fisted in his hair and her inarticulate whimpering formed the words, "Please, Carlos. Oh, god, please," that he finally pushed her over the edge.

Even as he kept with her, his tongue working over her until the very end, his hands were busy undoing his belt and then the button and fly. He kicked his pants free and finally moved up her body, tossing his shirt aside in the process.

"You," Stephanie managed to gasp out in the aftershocks of her orgasm, "In me. Now."

And how could he deny her the very thing he wanted so desperately. The very thing he needed more than air at this moment.

He entered her in one steady thrust, capturing both their moans with his mouth upon hers.

Home. This was home. Not some building. Not a place with four walls and a roof. This woman, this moment, this feeling, was home.

They moved together, push and pull, in and out, drive and retreat, until they were both panting and Ranger couldn't tell who was shaking more, him or her.

"Carlos," she gasped just as she tightened around him, drawing her name from his lips.

"Stephanie."

And then they were both falling and flying and shattering into pieces. And he collapsed atop her, sweaty and trembling and completely unable to move. And for several moments all he could hear was the blood rushing in his ears and their heartbeats thumping in rhythm.

When he was finally able to, he moved to her side, pulling her across his chest.

"I missed you so much," she whispered into his shoulder.

He squeezed her tightly. "Missed you, too, babe."

"I can't believe you're really here."

Her arms tightened around him and he dropped a kiss on the top of her head as reassurance that he was, in fact, here. They both were. Together.

"Not that I'm not happy about it, but, babe, why are _you_ here?"

She folded her arms on his chest, placing her chin on them so that they were at eye level. "I needed to feel close to you. This building, this apartment, your men, they were as close as I could get."

He felt a completely primitive, completely possessive growl threatening to escape his throat, but she just smiled and kissed his left pec.

"Not like that, silly. But they're great guys. I've had fun hanging out with them. They did their best to keep me entertained so that I wouldn't think about all the horrible things that might be happening to you. Tank let me know every time he had contact from the general saying you were okay. And when he didn't get contact, he and the guys helped to cheer me up, to keep me sane."

He nuzzled her hair as he imagined his tough ex-military men trying to comfort and cheer this woman in his arms. "I'm glad they were there for you."

"Mmmm," she mumbled.

They were silent for several moments and he found he enjoyed the quiet afterglow and the cuddling with her almost as much as the main act. Almost. He wanted to lie with her like this every night, to wake up with her wrapped in his arms every morning. And now he finally could.

"That was the last one, babe."

She stirred against his chest and mumbled, "hmm," into his skin.

"The mission, babe. It was the last one."

Suddenly she was sitting up next to him, peering down at him with eyes so wide it was almost comical.

"Really?" she asked quietly.

He smiled gently and nodded.

"No more in the wind?"

He shook his head and reached for her, wanting her back in his arms where she belonged.

She avoided his hands and took a deep breath. "Does this mean…"

He could feel his smile widen at the cautiously hopeful expression on her face.

"If you want it to."

"Do you?" She asked quietly.

"More than anything," he said and she finally let him capture her and drag her back down onto his chest.

"I love you, Carlos," he heard her say, and for once the words came easily, without hesitation, without qualifiers.

"I love you, Stephanie Plum."

* * *

A/N: One more chapter to go, my dearies! Thanks for reading and don't forget to let me know what you thought of this one!


	8. Changes

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

Spoilers: Through Fifteen to be safe

A/N: I do apologize for the extremely long delay. I can only blame writers block and a very big case of "real life got in the way". This here is the final chapter of ItMotN. I hope you've all enjoyed the ride as much as I have. This one goes out to JillyBean123 who prodded me into completing it. Thanks, babe!

* * *

_22 months later:_

The objective was simple: get in, retrieve the package, get out, and return to base. Simple. Yeah, right. Like anything could ever be simple when his babe was involved.

Panic crept in as his eyes swept the store—the third store in half an hour—and found it completely lacking in what he'd ventured out to find. He headed for the exit, fuming at the thought of having to drive across town to the all-night Walmart.

Couldn't she have normal cravings? Couldn't she want ice cream and pickles like any other woman? Of course not, he reminded himself, because his wife was not just any other woman. And Stephanie Michelle Manoso never did anything by halves. And so he found himself at 02:47 running about town in search of the one thing that apparently no self-respecting 24-hour convenience store carried: banana chips. Of all the outrageous, ridiculous things…

His phone buzzed. Without glancing at the screen, he flipped it open and snapped it to his ear.

"Yo," he answered tersely.

"What's taking you so long?"

He loved her, he truly did, but in that moment, all he wanted to do was tell her to take her pregnancy cravings and shove them up her newly voluptuous ass.

"Well, babe, banana chips aren't exactly the easiest thing in the world to find at nearly three in the morning." Or at any other time of the day, for that matter.

"Oh, oh yeah. Well, I mean, don't go to any trouble, Carlos. I can just…eat something else…I guess."

He wanted to take her up on it, he really did. But she sounded so disappointed and he was her husband and she was about to push his eight pound prodigy out of her vagina…

"No, babe, don't worry about it. I'll find you your banana chips, okay? You just go relax and I'll be home soon."

"Oh, thanks, Carlos. I love you so much, you know that right?"

Shit, she sounded horribly close to tears. She'd been doing that a lot during the past nine months or so; tearing up at the slightest things…or nothing at all. He hated every goddamn minute of it. An upset Stephanie was his complete undoing. He always felt so helpless, and like it was his fault…which in this case he supposed it was…

"Shhh, relax, babe. I know you love me. I love you, too."

She sniffled a few times and he swore silently as he climbed into the Cayenne and started the engine. "Carlos?"

"Yeah, babe?" He answered distractedly as he maneuvered the car out of the parking lot and towards the highway.

"You know what else sounds good?"

"What, babe?"

"Dried pineapples."

"D-Dri…what?"

"Dried pineapples. Could you get me some dried pineapples, too?"

He would have scrunched his eyes shut and rubbed his temples, but he was driving and so he limited himself to taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly.

"Of course, babe. Anything for you."

"Oh, Carlos." The tears were back in her voice and he knew he needed to get off the phone with her before he let them get to him.

"I'm gonna let you go relax, okay, babe? I need to concentrate on driving here."

"Okay, Carlos, I'll see you when you get home."

"Love you, babe."

"Love you."

He flipped his phone shut and slid it back into the holder on his belt.

Banana chips and dried pineapples, perfect.

Fifteen minutes later, he was standing in the snack-food aisle of the 24-hour Walmart cursing whoever invented pregnancy cravings. It was a woman, no doubt. Because all they were really good for were making husbands go out at unnatural times of the night to find impossible food items, and then go home and get bitched at because the wife now suddenly wanted something completely different. And the man would get back in his car and drive back to the nearest store to get what she now wanted because he loved her and it was his sperm that had gotten her into this mess in the first place. It was funny what guilt could make a man do.

Ranger cursed his way to the front of the store where a pimple-faced boy was standing at the cash register staring into space.

"Excuse me, do you guys carry banana chips or dried pineapples?"

The kid's eyes rose and focused on his and the kid blinked.

"Ummm…"

"Banana chips," Ranger said tersely at the kid's blank stare. "Dried pineapples."

"Yeah, um, we only carry those at certain times of the year."

Ranger waited a few moments for the boy to elaborate, but no further explanation was forthcoming.

"And is this one of those times?" He asked finally.

"Umm, no."

Ranger could feel his hands clenching into fists and his teeth gritted in his mouth. He took a deep breath through his nose and reminded himself that it wasn't this idiot kid's fault that the store wasn't currently carrying what he was in search of.

"But, umm, we got this trail mix," the kid said, reaching around the counter and grabbing a bag of the stuff to show to Ranger, "and it's got banana chips and dried pineapples _in it_."

Ranger grabbed the bag and tossed it on the little conveyor belt. "Good, give me two bags." Steph could just pick out the things she wanted and leave the rest.

He glanced at the small bag and figured there probably weren't a whole lot of bananas or pineapples in each bag. "Actually," he said as the kid began to scan the items, "you better give me four bags."

The kid grabbed two more bags without looking up and scanned them as well.

"That'll be nine dollars and twenty four cents."

Ranger handed the kid a ten dollar bill, quickly pocketed his change, then grabbed the bag and strode from the store.

He on the on-ramp headed for the highway when his phone buzzed.

"Babe," he answered it, "I'm on my way home with your food."

"That's great, Carlos. Thank you. But I was actually calling to tell you that I think I'm in labor."

Ranger slammed on the brakes and then sat there frozen as a horn blared and a truck barreled past him in the breakdown lane.

"Carlos?"

His babe was in labor. After nine months, their baby was finally ready to come out and join the world. Oh shit.

"Stay calm, babe," he told her. "Everything's going to be fine."

"I know, Carlos. I just…"

"I'm gonna hang up and call Tank. He's closer to you than I am. You just sit down and relax, querida. Do your breathing exercises, right?" He demonstrated them for her, the hee's and the haw's and everything. "You okay, babe? You doing them with me?"

Another car flew by in the breakdown lane, horn blaring.

"I'm fine, Carlos. I just wanted to…"

"You keep doing your breathing, babe, and Tank will be there to take you to the hospital before you know it. I'll meet you there as soon as I can."

He hung up and dialed Tank as he took his foot off the brake and floored the accelerator.

"Talk," the other man answered on the first ring.

"Operation D-Day is underway. I need you to pick up the package and deliver her safely to the hospital. I'm still twenty minutes out."

"Don't you mean Operation BatBaby, boss. You know that's what Steph and Lula decided we'd call it."

Ranger ground his teeth together and took the exit so fast that had he not been trained in defensive maneuvering of vehicles, he probably would have flipped the car.

"My child will not be referred to as the batbaby, do you hear me? I'm not fucking Batman. Now get over there and pick her up! I will not have my wife deliver our first child alone at home. I will not…"

"Dude, relax. I've already got her. She called the control room five minutes ago to ask who was closest and if we could pick her up. She's sitting right next to me doing her hee's and haw's and all that junk. If you'd shut up long enough when she called you, she would have told you that."

Shit. He was overreacting. No, scratch that, he was full-on freaking out. But this was his babe they were talking about, and she was about to give birth to their child, for chrissakes. He guessed he had a right to be a little neurotic.

"What's your ETA?" He asked Tank.

"We'll be at the hospital in under two minutes."

Ranger took a deep breath and relaxed his grip on the steering wheel.

"Good."

"Yeah, and man, slow the fuck down, your wife and baby need you alive, not tangled up around a telephone pole somewhere."

Ranger glanced down at the speedometer and saw it edge from eighty to ninety.

"How did you…"

"I know you, man. And I know you want to be here more than you want your next breath. But you need to get here in one piece. No way I'm standing in because you're in the ICU in a full body cast."

Ranger took another slow, deep breath and let it out as he eased up off the gas pedal. "Thanks, man."

"No prob. I'm gonna go get your wife situated. I'd let you talk to her, but she's started in with the cursing of your genitals, so..."

"Tell her I'll be there in ten."

"Will do."

Ranger disconnected and set the phone down on the seat beside him. He was going to be a father. It was really happening. Up until this moment, it had all seemed a little surreal. It seemed like just yesterday he was coming home from his final mission to find Stephanie asleep in his bed. They'd been married eight months later.

The baby thing hadn't been entirely planned. By that point they'd both decided that children wouldn't be a bad thing. Neither knew much about raising them, but they were willing to give it a shot. They hadn't been planning on starting that night nine months ago, but Steph was on some antibiotic for an ear infection, and apparently it interfered with her birth control, and now nine months later…

They had been surprised, but delighted to learn the news, and Ranger was still surprised and delighted…and scared shitless. What was he supposed to do with a baby? Well, sure he knew about the protecting and nurturing and all that, but what could a hardened-soldier-turned-mercenary-turned-security-specialist teach a child? How to hold a Glock? How to incapacitate a man in 1.5 seconds? Hardly things your average toddler would need to know. What did he know about coloring books and bedtime stories and school plays? Nothing.

He pulled into the hospital parking lot still contemplating what he could possibly bring to the parenting table. Lester was waiting for him in the lobby, and led the way upstairs to a comfortable-looking room at the end of a quiet hallway.

"I want two guys outside this door," Ranger told Santos as he walked past him and entered the room.

Stephanie was lying in bed looking flushed and in pain and so utterly beautiful that he stopped in the doorway and just stared at her.

"Get your ass over here, Batman. Have I got a bone to pick with you."

"Sorry I'm late, babe," he told her with a half-smile and crossed the room to drop a kiss on her glistening forehead.

"Yeah, well, we're just glad you got here before all the fun started," Tank said with a chuckle. Ranger glanced over his shoulder to find the large man seated in a chair across the room.

"Dismissed," came a growl in reply.

Ranger glanced down in surprise at his wife.

"Babe?"

"What? He's been joking about the 'fun' starting and the 'festivities' coming to a head and all kinds of other shit since he picked me up. _None_ of this is any _fun_, Pierre!" She yelled across the room.

Tank held up his hands in surrender as he rose from the chair and backed towards the door.

"Just holler if you need me, boss," he said just before pulling the door shut behind him.

Ranger shook his head and turned back to his wife.

"He was just trying to lighten the mood, babe."

"Does it _look_ like my mood needs lightening, Batman?" She growled, and Ranger flinched visibly.

"N—no, babe. Of course not."

"Good." She cringed then, her eyes screwing tight in pain and all he wanted to do was trade places with her. "Now get me some drugs, this shit hurts."

"Babe, Lester's already gone to get your doctor," he assured her. "Steph, babe, I'm so sorry. I wish I could do this for you. God, this is killing me."

He ran his hands back through his hair roughly, pushing out a harsh breath. She was glistening with sweat under the harsh fluorescent lights, her face tight with pain as her large stomach clenched in a contraction.

"What can I do, babe? Tell me what to do?"

"Drugs," she gritted out. "Get me drugs."

"Drugs," he muttered, striding to the door. "Drugs. I can do that."

"Nurse," he hollered out into the hallway. Three women in scrubs came running. "Get my wife some drugs, dammit. Can't anyone see she's in pain?"

"The doctor is on her way, Mr. Manoso. We can't administer anything until she okays it."

His fingers tugged his hair into disarray as he glared down at the woman who had spoken. "Well, where the fuck is she, huh? My wife is in pain in there and I can't allow that, do you hear me? She's not allowed to be hurt anymore than necessary, do you understand?"

"I understand, Mr. Manoso, but…"

"No _buts_, do you hear me? My wife…"

"Ranger…"

"Carlos, man…"

His men were speaking and he could feel their hands on his shoulders, but nothing mattered except the fact that Stephanie was in pain.

"I want some fucking drugs for my fucking wife, and if you don't…"

He felt hard arms wrapping around his chest from behind and then Tank's voice was in his ear. "Calm the fuck down, Rangeman. Stephanie doesn't need you like this, okay? The doctor will be here any minute, man, but for now Steph needs you calm and supportive, not arrested for assault."

That last brought a measure of sanity to Ranger's mind and he stopped fighting Tank's hold and took a deep breath.

"I'd never assault these women."

"I dunno, man, you just came pretty fucking close."

Ranger glanced back down at the three nurses in front of him, two of which cringed in fear when his gaze fell on them. The third was a bit older, more experienced maybe, and her glare was laced with something he had to believe was understanding.

"I'm sorry," he told them all softly. "I'm so sorry. I just…"

Tank released him and pounded him once on the shoulder. "We all get it, man. She's your fucking heart, she's in pain, and you can't do anything about it. We get it. But keep that shit under wraps or I'll have to take you out of here and you know Steph would kill us both if that happened."

Ranger nodded and rubbed at the tight knot in his chest before turning and going back into Stephanie's room.

"The drugs are coming, babe," he told her softly as he dragged a chair up as close to her bed as he could and sat in it. "I promise, querida, just a few more moments."

She nodded jerkily. "Are you…" she asked around a contraction, "are you harassing the nurses, batman?"

His lip tipped up in a half-smile as he smoothed some damp hair from her forehead. "Never, babe."

"Liar," she told him with a grin.

He placed his hand gently on her stomach. "Did they stop?"

She nodded. "For now. But my back hurts, Carlos."

"Roll over, babe. I'll rub it for you."

He helped her roll slowly onto her side, and then spent the next five minutes rubbing her aching back. When the contractions started again, he clenched his teeth and prayed for the strength not to wring his own neck for putting her through this.

"It will all be worth it in the end," she told him quietly when the pain had passed.

Dr. Rosebush entered a few minutes later and ordered an epidural, which both he and his babe were very grateful for. After that, it was just a matter of waiting.

At 07:43 the next morning, Isabel Anjelita Manoso was delivered into the hands of her beaming father. And then the middle of the night took on a whole new meaning for Stephanie and Carlos Manoso. It was no longer about picking locks and late night visits and girls nights gone bad. Now it was 2 a.m. feedings and changing diapers in the dark and trying to make love as quietly as possible so as not to wake the infant in the next room. There were so many changes that they couldn't all be named, but frankly, given the chance, Ricardo Carlos Manoso—Army Ranger turned mercenary turned security specialist turned proud Daddy—wouldn't have done anything differently.

* * *

A/N: Oh, and btw, I know that dried pineapples and banana chips aren't quite so hard to find as Ranger made them out to be, but they're my favorites, so... Use your imagination.

I just want to thank you all for reading, and a huge shout out to everyone who has reviewed this story or any of my others; your words mean the world to me. Thank you!


End file.
